On Blackened Wings
by Respite88
Summary: When a Harry Potter with a looser set of morals is accidentally summoned to Blackrock Mountain, no one could guess the effect it would have on him, the Black Flight, and Azeroth itself...A slightly different take on the Harry in Azeroth story. Darkish!Harry, Practical!Harry, Intelligent!Harry.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but some of the idea for this story, and not much of that. The image cover was taken from google images; if anyone knows who made it please let me know.  
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**So, I had some free time and I couldn't get this story out of my head. This will hopefully be a different take on the Harry getting summoned to Azeroth idea and be rest assured that he won't be going around solving everyone's problems; he will probably cause the people of Azeroth more trouble than anything else. I'm not going to promise this story will be great or anything, but hopefully it will be interesting enough to pass some time if need be.**

**I do want to say I will be taking a lot of liberties with this story. A lot of wow lore is missing important parts and not well explained, so I will be pulling some stuff out of my ass as I go along. Also, the populations are going to much much large than what they are supposed to be, cause the official population number makes many of the major races practically endangered species. Practically everything is going to be bigger.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

"You do realize that you're breaking dozens of ministry laws with this little project of yours," the portrait of Albus Dumbledore says, with a twinkle in his eye.

"And you do realize I could care less about the ministry and its laws," twenty-eight year old Harry Potter replies without looking up from the head sized egg which he is inscribing runes on. "Besides, I'm not doing anything too illegal."

"You're attempting to bind a living creature to your will," the portrait replies dryly. "That alone would have people up in arms should they ever find out."

"So while no one gives a bloody shit about House Elves, despite Hermione's best efforts, they're going to riot because I want a pet dragon."

"Exactly." Dumbledore gives Harry a smile. "So why don't you get a dog? I hear they are wonderful companions, although Minerva does seem to have something against them."

Harry lets out a snort at the thought of Minerva McGonagall owning a dog. "I have to wonder what made me think it was a good idea to have a copy of your portrait in my home; you always try to talk me out of doing anything fun."

"Are you referring to the time you tried to breed together a Unicorn and a Thestral or the time when you tried to learn to fly like Voldemort could by jumping off the Big Ben?"

"Just because those ideas hit a dead end doesn't mean this one will." Harry reaches up and scratches his nose. "Besides, I've already had five prior successes so far."

"I do believe that having prior success on rabbits means very little when you decide to skip straight to dragons afterwards." Albus pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's this kind of recklessness that got you dismissed from the Unspeakables after only two years of work."

"Don't bring up those wankers," Harry says with a scowl. "All I did was make a portkey capable of going to Mars. It's not my fault that idiot Williams decided to test it without telling me; you would think the "geniuses" in the Department of Mysteries would know that you can't breathe on Mars.

A screech from the other side of the room catches the attention of Harry and Dumbledore, who both look over to a large iron cage with an angry Dementor inside.

"You've yet to tell me what you intend to do with that," Dumbledore states.

"That's because I haven't figured it out yet." Harry shrugs his shoulders. "Do you think it would be possible to bind it to me as well?" Harry draws another rune on the dragon egg.

The portrait shakes its painted head in disappointment. "Do you not think controlling the will of a sentient being is going a little too far," Dumbledore asks in return.

Harry gives the painting a pointed look. "How many times must we have this discussion? You know that ever since the Horcrux was removed from my head and I returned from the dead that my morals have been slightly…looser than most."

"You can hardly fault an old man for missing the kind-hearted young man you once were." Dumbledore gives Harry a pointed look of his own.

Harry opens his mouth to give back a smartass reply but, before he can, darkened magic pulses over his form and he finds himself incapable of moving.

"Harry," Dumbledore questions in alarm. "What's going on?"

Unfortunately he doesn't get an answer, as a blackish light envelops Harry and takes him away, leaving behind a concerned portrait, a stolen dragon egg, and a frustrated Dementor.

* * *

><p>"You did it wrong," one of the Orc Warlocks says to the other, while they both stare down at the dark haired human male that appeared in their summoning circle. "This is not an Earth Elemental."<p>

The other Orc scratches the side of his head. "It was supposed to summon a powerful being from the Earth, not a measly human. What did I do different than those Dwarves and their Firelord master?"

Harry Potter slowly opens his eyes to find two of the ugliest creature he has ever seen looking down at him. The large monsters have greyish green skin, sharp pointed teeth, and faces that fill children's nightmares.

One of the Orcs, seeing Harry awake, sneers, pulls its leg back, and kicks him in the side with enough force to send Harry sailing across the room. Harry manages to quickly jump back to his feet, draw his wand and send two banishers toward his attackers. One of the Orcs is caught off guard and gets blasted into the rocky wall behind them. The other Orc simply raises a staff and reflects the spell away from him.

"Where am I," Harry asks, as he cautiously watches the creature.

The Orc doesn't reply and instead sends out a wave of black flames toward Harry, who summons Fiendfire to meet the attack head on. The two powerful spells collide and, after a moment of uncertainty, the Fiendfire overcomes the black flames and slams into the Orc.

Harry begins to relax, as he believes the fight is over, but miraculously the Orc appears unharmed when the flames go out. The Orc grins maliciously and begins launching balls of shadowy energy toward Harry, who hastily throws up a shield. The shield holds up, but Harry isn't sure how long it will; the magic the Orc is using is like nothing he has ever encountered before.

Harry drops the shield and dodges the rain of bolts that fly toward him unopposed. He then casts three Killing Curses, towards his attacker, in quick succession. A shield made out of dark light appears around the Orc and, to Harry's extreme shock, it absorbs the spells.

Harry notices the other Orc stirring back into consciousness and quickly fires an Imperious Curse at it. The spell makes contact and, with a little more effort than Harry normally requires, he forces his will over the creature.

Harry then begins casting numerous spells toward the Orc he is fighting. None of them manage to do any damage to it, but their purpose is to just keep the creature occupied. The Imperioused Orc then climbs to its feet and sends a burst of flame straight into the other Orc's back. That Orc, not expecting to be attacked by its comrade, is caught off guard and killed almost instantly.

Once it seems there is not any more immediate danger, Harry takes a better look at his surroundings. He is a small rocky room, most likely in a cave of some sort. The room is empty except for a complex ritual circle on the floor and a large iron door.

"Where am I," Harry asks for a second time.

"Blackrock Mountain," the Orc obediently responds.

Harry frowns at the unfamiliar location and sends a psychic nudge to make the Orc elaborate.

"Blackrock Mountain," the Orc continues. "Located between Burning Steppes and Searing Gorge, in the center of the Eastern Kingdoms, on the planet of Azeroth."

Harry frowns in thought at the Orc's words, but he doesn't have time to dwell on them as the sounds of people approaching the room reaches his ears.

Harry barely manages to Disillusion himself before two Orcs garbed in metal armor barge in through the door. The Orcs glance down at the burned body of the dead Orc, but they don't seem to be very concerned.

"What happened?" One of the newly arrived Orcs looks toward Harry's Imperioused puppet.

"Accident," the mind-controlled Orc says, after a prodding from Harry. "Messed up a summoning."

The new arrivals give matching savage grins. "Stupid warlocks," one says, as it gives a kick to the burnt body.

The two Orcs turn to leave, not caring that one of their comrades had apparently just met a gruesome death, when one of them catches sight of a slight ripple in Harry's Disillusionment spell. That Orc walks over near Harry and squints his eyes in an effort to see what caught his attention.

Harry, knowing there is a good chance he is going to be discovered, raises his wand and fires a Killing Curse right into the Orc's face. A cutting curse then slashes through the other Orc's neck before it has time to react.

Harry then takes the time to cover himself in complete invisibility, as well as masking his scent and sounds.

"Show me the way out of here," Harry commands the Orc, who obediently follows the command.

The Orc leads Harry out of the room and into a long rocky hall. It seems Harry's first impression of being in a cave is true.

"Those were some impressive pieces of magic," a voice echoes through the tunnel.

Harry stiffens in surprise and twists around looking for the source of the voice. "Show yourself," Harry demands, as he stays poised to move on a second's notice.

"No need to be so high strung." A tall, strong looking middle aged man appears as some type of invisibility spell appears to melt off of him. "If I wished you ill will, I would have already put you down."

The man's words have very little effect, but the amount of power that Harry can feel flowing from this man does. This man is easily the most powerful being that Harry has ever encountered, or even imagined encountering. So it is with the knowledge that this being could crush him with hardly a thought that Harry lowers his wand and decides to see what he has to say.

"Smart decision, mortal." The man glances at the Orc and effortlessly breaks the hold that Harry's Imperious curse has on it. The Orc, recognizing the man, falls down to the ground in a groveling bow. "Leave my sight," he orders the Orc, which hurriedly stands and runs away in obedience.

"The dog seems well trained," Harry comments to the powerful man. "Name is Harry, by the way."

"I am Nefarian, or as I am called in this human form, Lord Victor Nefarius," he declares his identity with more than a little bit of pride. "I am the son of Deathwing, the leader of the Black Dragon Flight, Master of the Blackrock Clan, and Lord of Blackrock Spire."

"Well Nefarian, if you wouldn't mind showing me the exit, I'll get out of your hair," Harry casually says as he uses his magic to feel out the protections around the mountain. What he feels is unlike any type of wards he has dealt with before, but he can at least tell that trying to apparate out would be a very bad idea.

Nefarian gets an amused look on his face. "You don't actually think I'm going to let you leave do you?"

"Oh," Harry says as he tries to figure out the best way to try to escape.

"I felt your power the moment my Orcs summoned you. So no I'm not letting you leave, instead I want you serve me; I have the feeling you would be a capable ally to have."

"And if I refuse," Harry questions.

"Then I'll kill you," Nefarian simply states.

Harry forces himself to relax and to put on a convincing face. Hopefully it won't be too difficult to pretend to go along with this guy and then simply escape when an opportunity arises. "What would I get out of this?"

"Besides your life?" The humor in his voice is easily heard. "We both know you wouldn't stand a chance against my might."

"Touché," Harry says after he pretends to think it over for a few moments. "It seems I don't have much of a choice."

Nefarian gives a pleased smile and stretches out his hand. "Then we have an agreement."

"I suppose we do," Harry replies as he clasps the man's outstretched hand.

The moment their hands meet a black mist seeps out of Nefarian's hand and into Harry. Harry jumps back in surprise but the mist continues forward until it has all seeped into his skin.

"What did you do?" Harry eyes are filled with anger as he looks to the man.

Nefarian gives a large smile. "I bound your will to me; the magic required you to agree to serve me of your own free will before it would work."

Actual fear starts to creep into Harry's bones as he feels the dark magic wrap itself around his being, similar to an unbreakable vow but vastly more powerful.

"Now come, we have much to do," Nefarian says as he begins to walk down the hall.

Harry's feet begin moving before he even has time to consider the order.

* * *

><p>"So, you do know that everything that happens on this planet seems to be fucked up," Harry tells Solakar, a Dragonspawn of the Black Dragon Flight.<p>

The lower bodies of Dragonspawn are much like dragons, a scaled hide with four legs and a tail. They have humanoid torsos with long, thick arms, and scaled, draconic heads. Their hides and draconic features are the color of their patron flight, in this case black.

Solakar is in charge of the rookery in the upper portion of Blackrock Spire, the home of a portion of the Black Flight of Dragons. Since Solakar has experience dealing with infants, Nefarian seemed to believe that he would be the best to educate Harry on the history of Azeroth, the five Dragon Flights, and what he will need to know to survive in this world long enough to be useful to the Black Dragons. Solakar has just finished relaying the Black Flight's information on the Lich King to Harry.

"The world of Azeroth has an extensive history," Solakar tells him. "That greatly increases the chances of its past containing something that would be, by your definition, "fucked up"."

Harry has to refrain from rolling his eyes at the creature's words. Most of the Dragonspawn he has met, over the four months he has spent on Azeroth, like to take things extremely serious.

"Still, you have to admit that an army of undead rampaging across the continent isn't something you hear about every day." Harry takes a bite of an apple he seems to pull from thin air.

Solakar takes note of the quick appearance of the apple. "You have become very efficient at creating food. Most mages require many seconds of focus to create sustenance."

Conjuring food is one of the few of this world's spells that Harry has learned so far. The mages of Azeroth draw the power for their spells from the world around them, instead of from an internal magical core like the wizards of Earth. Harry has found this to be an interesting change of pace from his main spell repertoire and that the spells also seem to be quite a bit harder to master than the ones that use his internal magic.

"Conjuring food was considered an impossibility on my world." Harry takes another bite of his apple. "When I discovered there was a way to do so here, I was motivated to make sure I was good at it."

Solakar glances over at Harry. "It is time to feed the whelps."

Harry smiles at this. While so far Nefarian has had Harry doing mostly menial things with his extremely versatile magic, this is a job that Harry genuinely enjoys.

Harry nods and apparates, as Nefarian keyed him into the magics preventing him from doing so, up to the rookery, which contains over thirty eggs. As soon he appears, ten Black whelps immediately rush up to Harry in an effort to be petted, in which he obliges them.

A large percentage of dragon eggs die before they even hatch, and those rarely make it to adulthood for various reasons. All the Dragon Flights have a slight survival of the fittest mentality, most likely a leftover instinct of their reptilian nature, but the Black Flight really takes it to a whole new level. Harry has personally taken it upon himself to ensure as many of the little dragons survive as possible.

"Calm down, calm down," Harry says with a laugh as he tries to push little monsters away.

Black Dragon whelps are the definition of affection starved, so when Harry took a liking to them they quickly began competing for his attention.

Harry gives a wave of his hand, he really likes that this new type of magic is wandless friendly, and conjures dozens of large slabs of meat. The whelps don't hesitate to abandon their attempts at being petted and rush over to their dinner.

Harry grins again and then apparates even higher up the mountain, almost to the top. He reappears in another rookery, although this one is much smaller and only four whelps are here to greet him. These whelps are one of Nefarian's experiments; he calls them Chromatic Dragons.

The Chromatic Dragons are created by using blood from all five Dragon Flights. This gives them qualities and abilities from all the flights. They are mostly a dark magenta color while the inside of their wings are a dark blue.

"Har'ri," A large Chromatic Drakonid approaches Harry.

Drakonids are extremely large creatures that seem to be a mixture of a humanoid and a dragon. Like the Dragonspawn, they serve their respective flights and normally sport those colors. This Drakonid is one of the only two Chromatic ones created so far.

Harry doesn't even blink at the way the Drakonid pronounces his name. Many of Nefarian's followers would mistakenly pronounce it that way, and it seemed to stick. Even Harry has taken to introducing himself that way.

"Hello, Malkar," Harry greets the hulking form of the Drakonid that watches over the Chromatic whelps and eggs. "How are you today?"

"I am well," Malkar rumbles. "Master Nefarian wishes to speak with you."

Harry sighs as he absent mindedly pets the Chromatic whelps. "Thank you for letting me know."

The Drakonid nods and moves to stand back over against the wall.

Once again Harry waves his hands and huge slabs of meat appear for the small dragons to eat on.

With the whelps now fed, Harry spins on his heel and reappears in Nefarian's throne room, which the man is sitting upon. If you can even call him a man; Harry was pretty wowed when he discovered that Nefarian was literally a giant talking wyrm dragon just in human form.

"Lord Nefarian," Harry greets the son of Deathwing and ruler of Blackrock Spire.

"I have an assignment for you," Nefarian simply says.

Harry grimaces at those words. So far the assignments Nefarian has assigned him have been mind-numbing; the last thing he had to do was enchant a couple dozen trunks with the expansion charm and organize Nefarian's many treasures.

"An Alliance party has set up a base camp in Burning Steppes, not far from the mountain, and has been performing attacks on our members," Nefarian explains. "I want you to destroy the camp in whatever way you see fit."

Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Am I going alone?"

"Not quite," Nefarian says. "Come." He gets up from his throne and goes through a small door on the side of the room.

Harry follows after him and they come out upon a balcony at the top of the mountain.

"This is Kerran; he will act as your mount." Nefarian gestures toward a saddled Black Dragon. "The camp you shall be assaulting is comprised mostly of pitiful soldiers, but our information tells us that it is being led by a fairly powerful Paladin."

"I guess I'll get going then." Harry wishes he had more time to prepare for his first real assignment, but he goes ahead and climbs onto the dragon's back without complaint anyways.

"Har'ri, you may keep any spoils you happen to bring back with you," Nefarian tells him. "And try not to die; you won't be very useful to me like that."

"I'll do my best," Harry dryly replies.

The dragon, Kerran, launches off the balcony and shoots through the sky at a great speed. Harry has to struggle not to fall off the beast.

"We will be there soon," Kerran rumbles over the wind, several minutes after they take off.

Harry twitches a little at the dragon's voice. The drakes and whelps, which he has the most contact with, generally don't learn to speak English, or common as they call it in Azeroth, until they're older. So, it still throws him for a loop when he hears the older dragons talk the language.

Harry notices the fast approaching Alliance base; there are three griffin riders flying high above the camp. "I assume you will have no problem dealing with the riders," he asks Kerran.

The dragon snorts out a puff of smoke and bares its teeth. Harry takes that at as a yes.

As soon as Kerran is overtop the base, Harry slides off the dragon and falls through the sky at high speeds. Right before he smacks into the ground, he uses a spell called Slow Fall that instantly slows his decent down as if he was a floating feather.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, he sends a Killing Curse into the nearest guard, who instantly falls dead. With his free hand he uses one of the newest things he has learned to do, and sends a wave of fire flying out. The fire sets dozens of tents on fire, and judging by the screams the tents weren't empty.

The Alliance members, suddenly realizing they're being attacked, rush out to meet Harry. They have their weapons drawn but don't yet move forward to strike. Then a large man in blue and silver armor steps forward from the crowd.

"Why have you attacked us," the large man asks in a booming voice. He glances up at the dragon, which has a griffin crushed in its teeth. "And why do you do so with a Black Dragon."

A golden aura starts to shine around the man, and Harry correctly assumes that this man is the Paladin Nefarian mentioned. He can feel the Holy power radiating of the man, and while it doesn't cause him any pain, it does cause an uncomfortably itching to crawl over his skin.

"I've never met a Paladin before," Harry states. Paladins aren't the type of people to hangout around Blackrock Mountain.

"Then I will be the first." The Paladin grips a large mace hanging on his hip. "And last, that you shall meet."

Harry gives a wave of his wand and a dozen stone wolves rise up out of the ground. The wolves immediately jump into attacking the thirty or so soldiers in the camp.

"So we aren't interrupted," Harry says to the Paladin, as one of his wolves rips out the throat of a soldier.

An angry expression appears on the Paladin's face as he raises his weapon and charges toward Harry. "The Light will clean your filth off the face of Azeroth."

In reply, Harry sends a Killing Curse sailing into the Paladin's path, but the spell is absorbed by a glowing golden shield. This causes Harry to scowl irritably, as it seems everyone and their mother has a way to block his supposedly unblockable spell.

The Paladin, which has closed the distance between him and Harry inhumanly fast, swings his mace over his head and down where Harry was standing. Harry apparated away and reappeared a couple dozen feet to the right.

"Quite the swing you've got there," Harry says in amusement, as he gazes at the small crater the paladin made in the dirt with his strike.

Harry starts banishing boulders at the man, but the Paladin either vaporizes them with a blast of his Holy power or a swing of his weapon. Harry then conjures a large floating warhammer, which proceeds to follow the movements of his wand. A large wave of his wand causes the hammer to swing through the air at the Paladin, who proceeds to parry the strikes with his mace.

A golden lance of energy streaks across the field and slams into Harry's hastily created shield, which buckles but manages to hold. Another lance is fired, but Harry apparates a foot in front of the Paladin and slams his fist into the man's face. Harry apparates away with a smile as he hears the satisfying crunch of a broken nose.

The conjured wolves, of which three remain, have either killed or crippled the rest of the soldier. They now turn their attention to the Paladin and attack. The Paladin, even with his bloody and broken nose, twirls toward the constructs and blasts two of them with Holy Light, which causes them to turn to dust. He then breaks the last wolf in half with a slam of his mace.

The Paladin tries to turn back to face Harry but, before he can, the large warhammer smacks into the side of his skull with so much force that his neck snaps with a crack and his head is twisted all the way around.

"Sorry mate," Harry says to the shocked look on the dead man's face, which is kind of weird to do since his body is lying stomach down on the ground. "It wasn't personal."

Harry reaches down and picks up the Paladin's weapon. It grows uncomfortably warm in his hand, and he definitely wouldn't trust using it in a fight. He then conjures a sack, casts an expansion charm on the inside, and begins looting the Paladin, soldiers, and camp of anything of value.

Harry notices that two of the soldiers seem to still be alive, at least until they bleed out from their many wounds.

"I have an offer for you both," Harry says as he approaches the downed soldiers. "It's quite simple. Serve me and live, or don't and die."

One of the soldiers snarls and spits blood on Harry's boots. In return Harry raises his wand and slits the man's throat.

"What about you?" Harry looks at the other soldier.

"Okay," the soldier says after a few seconds.

Harry is a little surprised at the sound of the voice; he wasn't expecting the soldier to be a woman under that helmet. "We have a deal then." Harry reaches his hand down toward her.

The woman is hesitant for a few seconds before she reaches up and grasps Harry's hand. When she does, black mist seeps out of his hand and seeps into the soldier's skin, bounding her will to Harry's.

The woman jerks her hand back in surprise. "What did you do to me?"

Harry smiles triumphantly. He has only bound one other person to him and then it took four separate tries to replicate the magic that Nefarian used on him; this time it worked first try. "Bound your will to mine," Harry says cheerfully.

He crouches down and places his wand against the soldier's leg, which is bent at a very odd angle and obviously broken. The wand's tip glows bright and the leg snaps back into place.

"What's your name," Harry asks.

"Clara Barcurl," Harry's new minion answers, as she climbs to her feet and tests her leg. "Who are you?" She glances up at the dragon that's still flying around overhead. "Or what are you?"

Harry lets out a laugh. "I'm Har'ri, and no, I'm not another one of those giant flying lizards." He gives her an appraising look. "You seem to be taking being magically bound to the guy that just slaughtered your entire camp rather well."

She pulls her helmet off her head, allowing long dirty blond hair to fall down her shoulders. "I've never been one to bitch about things I can't do anything about." She directs a scowl at Harry.

Harry, unperturbed by her glare, returns to scavenging the useful things around the camp. "So, just out of curiosity, what the hell is the Alliance doing setting up a camp here in the middle of bloody nowhere?"

"We were meant to set up a beachhead in the region," Clara obediently replies.

Harry laughs. "Whose great idea was that? With only about forty soldiers, they had to know that either the dragons or the Firelord's servants would take them out."

She glances over at the dead Paladin, who Harry has already stripped the armor off of. "That Paladin you killed was Alestrain Bray, a Knight of the Silver Hand. It was believed that he would be able to deal with the hostiles in the area until reinforcements was sent."

"It seems they were mistaken," Harry says in amusement.

Harry places two fingers in his mouth and whistles as loud as he can. This catches the attention of Kerran, who quickly flies down and lands next to them.

"Who is this?" The dragon bares his teeth at Clara.

Harry crosses his arms. "Nefarian said I could keep whatever I bring back with me." He stares down the dragon.

The dragon snorts, but crouches down so they can climb on board. Harry hops up onto the saddle and then offers his hand to Carla, who warily keeps an eye on Kerran as she lets Harry help her up. Harry then casts Fiendfire to destroy the remains of the camp.

"I suggest you hold on," Harry says to the girl pressed up against his back.

Kerran uses his powerful limbs to push off the ground and straight up into the sky; Carla's arms quickly wrap themselves tightly around Harry's waist to prevent herself from falling off. They soar through the sky and cross at least twenty miles in about thirteen minutes. Kerran lands on the same balcony that they originally left from and Harry and Clara both climb off.

Harry leads Clara off the balcony and into the throne room, where Nefarian is sitting on his throne.

"I see you've picked up a stray." Nefarian looks at Clara in amusement. "I do hope it's house trained."

Harry lips quirk up in a smile. "If having good personal hygiene was a requirement to live here, then I think there's about forty thousand Orcs in this mountain that will need to move."

Harry and Nefarian have developed an odd relationship over the last four months. While they wouldn't call the other a friend, as Nefarian did trick Harry into being bound to him, they do have a rather positive working relationship.

Nefarian laughs at Harry's words. "I assume your assault was a success?"

"There's nothing left but ashes and the spoils." Harry holds up his bag of stolen goods. "And Clara here." He motions toward the girl, who has been smartly standing slightly back and to his side with her head down.

Nefarian hums. "You may leave me then and return to your duties." He waves his hand in a dismissal.

Harry nods his head and leads Clara out of the throne room and into the hall.

"What are you planning to do with me," Clara asks as they walk.

Harry is able to hear some worry in her voice; he guesses that the tough visage she's been projecting is starting to wear thin. He is able to guess what her biggest worry probably is.

"I'm not going to rape you, if that's what you're asking," Harry pats her on the head like you would a dog. "Besides, we've got a couple thousand slaves in this mountain that are more than willing to warm my bed if it meant it got them out of their cages."

She slightly relaxes. "What am I here for then," she presses on.

Harry shrugs his shoulders. "Not really sure." He flicks some lint off his shoulder. "Keeping you was sort of a spur of the moment thing." Harry's eyes suddenly light up. "How good are you with that sword on your hip?"

She glances down at the weapon. "I'm good," she answers.

"Great; I'm shit with a sword and in need of a teacher." Harry leads them down another hall.

Clara is glancing around at the well-constructed fortress which is Blackrock spire. "I'm can't believe this is what the inside of Blackrock really looks like."

Harry glances over at her. "What do you know about Blackrock's history?"

"Not much," she admits. "I know that it was built by Dwarves, that the lower portion is controlled by elementals and that the upper portion is controlled by dragons."

"It was built by the Dark-Iron Dwarves centuries ago to serve as a symbol of their power, and they controlled it uncontentested until they declared war on the other two largest Dwarven clans, the Wildhammer and Bronzebeard clans." Harry smiles, as he is happy to actually be telling the history instead of listening about it from Solakar. "The war didn't go quite the way the Dark-Iron clan had hoped, so when the combined forces of their enemies marched on the mountain, they desperately attempted to summon a great power locked under the mountain. Their summons awoke the Firelord Elemental Ragnaros. It was his awakening that caused the decimation of Burning Steppes and Searing Gorge. Ragnaros, instead of helping the Dwarves, enslaved the Dark-iron clan and took control of their capitol."

"Where do the dragons come in," Clara asks, as she hangs onto the words of Harry's tale.

"During the First War, when the Orcs first stepped foot on Azeroth, the Horde led an assault against the mountain and took control of the Spire, which is the part above ground, from the Dwarves," Harry continues. "They used this as their base of operations for most of the war, but after the Alliance's assault on the place decimated their numbers and captured their chieftain, the remaining forces were unable to hold back the Dwarves and elementals living in the depths of the mountain. Because of this, Rend Blackhand, the one who took control of the remaining members of the Horde here, made a deal with Nefarian. I'm not completely clear on the details of what that deal included, but a small portion of the Black Dragon Flight moved in, took control of the Spire, and Blackhand's followers declared swore allegiance to the Black flight and named themselves as the Dark Horde. To this day the forces under the control Nefarian and the forces of Ragnaros compete for control of the mountain."

"And how did you end up here?" She looks at Harry questioningly.

"Same way as you," Harry says with a chuckle. "Nefarian tricked me, and I found myself bound to him like you're bound to me."

"So when you attacked my camp, it was because you had to," Clara asks him.

Harry glances at her. "If you're trying to justify my actions, don't bother. My morals are rather skewed compared to most; for example, I feel no guilt whatsoever over my actions against your camp." Harry stops at a pitch black metal door at the end of the hall. "My suite is through here," he says as he pushes the door open and they walk inside.

"Har'ri," a voice mumbles. "Are you ready for another round?"

Harry and Clara both turn toward the crimson colored bed in the center of the very large room. A long bare leg sticks out of the silken sheets and long hair so blond it's almost white lay splayed across the pillows.

"Clara, this is Feytara Amberstar," Harry introduces, as he motions toward the half asleep woman in his bed, who is the only other person whose will he has bound to his own. "Fey, don't tell me you've been in bed since I left you this morning."

Feytara rolls over, knocking the sheets off her nude body as she does, and arches her back as she stretches the kinks out of her body. Completely unconcerned with her state of dress, she slides out of the bed, walks up to Harry, and pulls his head down for a searing kiss.

She pulls back from the kiss and glances over at Clara. "Who's you're new friend," she asks Harry.

Harry's eyes, which had lost focus during the kiss, zeros in on Clara's blushing face. "This is Clara Barcurl, a member of the Alliance that I decided to keep."

Feytara gives Clara a sultry look before turning back to Harry. "I'll be in the bath; you're both welcome to join me." She sways her hips enticingly as she crosses the floor and enters a side room.

"Where did you find a High Elf," Clara asks, still with a blush.

"Don't let her hear you call her that." Harry lets out a laugh. "They're "Blood" Elves now, she says," he continues. "I found her locked in one of our cells when I was looking for a Mage tutor, and she happened to be a Mage."

Clara glances toward the room Feytara went into. "I get the feeling she teaches you more than magic."

"Trust me," Harry says with a shit eating grin. "Everything we do is magic."

"I'm sure," she dryly responds.

"So, do you want your own room," Harry walks up to an empty wall and looks at it. "Or you're welcome to join Fey and I in ours." Harry throws a wink over his shoulder.

Clara looks rather surprised at question. "I would really appreciate my own room."

Harry nods draws his wand. A light shoots out and hits the wall, which causes and opening to form in the wall that grows backwards until a full sized room is formed. A wave of his wand conjures a wooden desk, chair, dresser, chest, and a large bed; the furniture is decorated in white and dark green.

He turns around to see Clara's amazed expression as she takes in the room.

"I've never even stood in a bedroom so nice," she says in awe. "This is a room that belongs to royalty."

"I take care of what's mine," Harry says with a shrug. "And whether you like it or not, you belong to me now."

Clara is unsure whether to feel flattered or offended by that statement. "How did you do this," she questions. "I've never seen magic do anything even close to something like this room."

"In addition to the magics that you're familiar with, I'm also capable of a type of magic no one else on this world can perform," he explains. "It's the reason Nefarian has taken such an interest in me and pretty much gives me free rein to do whatever I want."

"Thank you," Clara suddenly says.

Harry gives her a confused look. "Don't forget, I did practically tie your free will to a leash."

"I know that," she snaps. "But I realize that I could have ended up dead or far worse." She waves her hands around the room. "And if this room and the satisfied looking elf is any indication, there's a good chance I'll enjoy being your pet," she finishes with a blush crawling up her neck and to her cheeks.

Harry slightly chuckles at her words. "I'd give it a few weeks before you make a judgment on that." He flashes her a smile. "You welcome to go in any unlocked rooms, just try not to leave my suite. Some of the things living in this mountain would find you to be a tasty snack."

"Where are you going," she asks as Harry starts walking out the newly formed room.

"To join Fey in the bath," Harry says with a mischievous smile. "You want to come along?"

Clara has to remind herself that this man just slaughtered her entire camp less than a few hours ago. "I think I'll pass this time."

Harry's smile gets even wider, not that Clara can figure out why. "This time," Harry repeats with a laugh as he leaves the room.

Clara frustratedly growls in her throat and heads to her new bed.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm hoping this will be a fresh take on a Harry Potter  Warcraft crossover. If you want, drop a review and let me know what you think. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but some of the idea for this story, and not much of that. The image cover was taken from google images; if anyone knows who made it please let me know.**

**I would like to recommend these Harry Potter/Warcraft crossovers: Wizard Runemaster by Plums, World of Wheezes by Byakugan789, The Next Great Adventure by ThatGuyYouKnew.**

**I would also like to recommend the Warcraft series Demon Hunter by Nex-Thanarak. It is one of my favorite series, is three books long, and completed.**

**Two quick important things. This will not be a harem fic, sorry, and I changed the name of this story from On Blackened Wings to On Deadly Wings.**

**Also some of the text in this chapter is taken from Deathly Hallows.**

******Edit I just changed the name back to On Blackened Wings because I can't make up my mind.**

* * *

><p>"The legends say that Black Dragons are all born insane," Clara says as she scratches a whelp behind its ears. "These little guys don't seem so bad." She has only been living in the Spire for three weeks and she has already gotten attached to the tiny dragons.<p>

Harry frowns. "The explanation for that is rather complicated," he says. "Have you ever heard of the Old Gods?"

She looks at him in confusion. "In myths and legends, but they weren't actually real were they?"

"They were, and still are, very real." He scratches his nose. "Or the Black Flight at least believes them to be."

Clara waits a few moments. "Well, go on," she demands.

Harry cracks a smile. "As far as the dragons know, and what they know isn't much, when Azeroth was still young a group of powerful dark beings known only as the Old Gods were sealed for eternity deep within the earth of the planet."

"Did they escape?" Clara leans forward with interest.

"No, they still lurk beneath the surface to this day." Harry reaches down and pets one of the whelps.

"Then what do they have to do with the Black Dragons," she asks.

"When the dragon flights were created, the five leaders were each empowered with specific powers. Alexstrasza was given the power of life, Nozdormu the power of time, Malygos the power of magic, Ysera the power of nature, and Neltharion the power of the earth.

Because of these powers, Neltharion became connected with the earth in ways that are impossible to describe. Now, what beings are currently locked away deep within Azeroth?"

Clara starts to realize where this may be going. "The Old Gods," she says.

"Exactly," Harry says with a nod of his head. "Neltharion's connection with the earth allowed the Old Gods to communicate with him, and eventually they were able to use what power they still retained to corrupt the Earth-Warder until he became the being who called himself Deathwing. Once Neltharion was corrupted, his future children were born with the same corruption inflicted upon him."

"So Nefarian and these little whelps all have the same corruption," Clara asks as she hesitantly stops petting the whelp.

"Nefarian and his sister Onyxia were born before Neltharion was corrupted." Harry reaches over and scratches the whelp Clara stopped petting. "So his corruption was never passed onto them. As for the whelps and other dragons in the Spire, most of them are spawns of Onyxia and also free of the corruption. Actually, I would say that about a tenth of the Black Flight isn't corrupted at all, they are just mean as hell."

"Wait a second," she says. "If Nefarian was never corrupted, then why did he still follow his father? I've heard horror stories of Deathwing and his evil children."

"Most dragons, whether corrupted or not, would never even consider betraying their flight leader. Those that did were also probably killed," Harry explains. "And he may be good at hiding it, but Nefarian is a bit mad himself. When his father was driven insane by the Old Gods, Nefarian willing joined in on the destruction of his own accord; what does that tell you about the kind of dragon he is?"

Clara resumes petting the whelps. "Right, so even though some of the Black Dragons are free of this corruption, they're all still pretty much evil bastards."

Harry taps her on her forehead. "You've got it." He sets one of the whelps, which had climbed up into his lap, down onto the floor. "He should be ready by now."

Clara looks up curiously. "Who should be ready?"

Harry just smiles and reaches out his hand. Clara grimaces, but takes his hand. They then disappear from from the rookery.

"I don't know how you can pop around like that all the time," Clara says with a wheeze, as they reappear in a candlelit room that is attached to Harry's suite.

"You get used to it." Feytara, who is standing by the door, tells her.

A large hulking bull-like creature steps out of the corner of the room. Dozens of glowing runes decorate the creature's body.

"Everything has been prepared, Har'ri," the bull rumbles.

Clara jumps in shock at the presence of the Tauren. "What's going on?"

Harry motions toward the bull. "This is Wicasa Cloudrunner, and he is what is called a Runemaster. I found him locked in the cells and, in return for setting him free, he is going to help us out."

Clara still looks confused. "Okay, what's he helping us with?"

The Tauren steps forward at Harry's nod. "Runemasters are mystics who empower themselves with magical energies by inscribing themselves with runes," Wicasa explains. "In return for my freedom, I have agreed to use my skills to inscribe runes upon your bodies."

"I don't have any magical abilities," Clara points out.

"Magical talent is only required to inscribe the runes, not use them," the Tauren says. "I will be inscribing permanent runes upon your skin, as none of you possess the skills to redraw temporary ones onto a living creature."

"Why would someone bother with temporary ones if you can make them permanent?"

"There's a limit to the number of permanent runes your body can safely handle," Wicasa answers. "Most of the runes upon my body will fade away within the next few months and have to be redrawn; I possess only five permanent runes and I shall be drawing four each on you three."

"I've discussed it with Wicasa, and since we will only have four runes, we've decided on the ones that should provide us with the largest benefits," Harry says. "He will inscribe the runes of awareness, motion, striking, and strength upon us. Awareness will increase our senses, motion will increase our speed, striking will increase our martial prowess, and strength will obviously increase our strength."

"I'm going first," Feytara declares with a smile.

Harry raises an eyebrow at her excitement. "Alright, go ahead and strip then."

Feytara shrugs her robe off her shoulders and lets it drop to the floor; she has nothing on underneath.

"Lie down," Wicasa tells her.

She lays down on a spread out blue blanket and Wicasa pulls out a long narrow dagger. The dagger is covered in hundreds of small runes and glows with a silver light.

Wicasa crouches down and begins drawing the first rune on the left side of her front rib cage. The second is drawn on her front right shoulder, the third on her back left shoulder, and the last in the center of her back. Wicasa then places his large palm over each of the runes, which causes the inscribed symbols to glow a light blue color one by one until they are all lit.

Once the Tauren has finished with Feytara, Harry removes his shirt and the Tauren repeats the process. Then, with a heavy amount of blushing from the girl, Clara takes off her shirt and the Tauren inscribes the runes one final time.

"These are rather neat," Feytara traces one of the glowing runes on Clara's back, which causes the girl to blush even more as she hurriedly pulls her shirt back on.

The Tauren steps forward. "I have kept my end of the bargain."

"Yes, you have," Harry agrees, as he experimentally tests the boosts he gets from the runes. "And I will keep mine." He notices his speed and reflexes have increased by quite a bit. "Girls, I'll be back later." He places his hand on the Tauren's shoulder and apparates them both up to the mountains highest balcony.

Wicasa's ears twitch irritably. "That is a most uncomfortable method of travel."

Harry grins. "There is a Horde base called Kargath right past the border of Searing Gorge; I will have you dropped off near it." Harry whistles loudly over the balcony.

"I thank you, human, for honoring our agreement," Wicasa says.

Harry waves of the thanks. "Just try not to get captured again."

Kerran flies down from above and lands on the balcony.

"Kerran, I need you to drop the Tauren off near Kargath," Harry tells the dragon. "Don't get any closer than you're comfortable and try not to be seen."

Kerran bares his teeth. "If I am seen I will eat the witnesses."

Harry rolls his eyes, even though he knows that it's very likely the dragon is serious. "Well, Wicasa, have a nice life."

"You as well, Har'ri," he says as he climbs atop the saddle on Kerran's back.

Kerran launches off the balcony and into the sky; he seems to be moving surprisingly fast considering he is carrying an almost thousand pound beast on his back.

Harry turns from the balcony and heads back inside the mountain.

* * *

><p>All of a sudden, the entire mountain shakes.<p>

"What the bloody hell," Harry curses as he tries to stay on his feet.

Harry has the sudden fear that Ragnaros may have abandoned his place below the mountain and is going for an all-out assault against the Spire, but he is able to sense that the great power of the Firelord is still resting in the same place it always is. However, he is also able to sense another power, one almost as powerful as Ragnaros or Nefarian is. Whoever this new power belongs to seems to be doing battle with Nefarian.

Harry quickly apparates to where he senses the conflict. He reappears in a large cavern and faces something that literally takes his breath away. For the first time Harry has seen, Nefarian is in his dragon form, and not only that but he is locked in battle with a giant Red Dragon that seems to be holding its own against the Prince of the Black Flight.

Harry, all the while wondering how a Red Wyrm even managed to get into the mountain, conjures huge chains which shoot out of the ground and wrap themselves around the dragon's limbs. Unbreakable charms are then quickly cast on the pieces of metal.

The chains cause the dragon to stumble and Nefarian's tail lashes out and slams the Red dragon against the wall.

Nefarian laughs in his booming draconic voice. "You're power is nothing compared to mine, Vaelastrasz."

The Red dragon, Vaelastrasz, snarls and jerks the chains. The chains, to Harry's extreme shock, snap apart like string.

"Well I'll be damned," Harry mutters as he looks at his broken chains; he has never seen something with an unbreakable charm actually break without dispelling the charm first.

Just for the hell of it, Harry tosses a Killing Curse at the dragon. The spell impacts the side of Vaelastrasz, but the dragon doesn't seem to even notice it.

"Didn't think so," he remarks, as Nefarian and the Red Dragon continue to claw and bite one another in fierce battle.

A flick of the wrist causes large spikes of ice to shoot out, but they just shatter against the dragon's sturdy hide and have just about as much effect as the Killing Curse. Harry frowns and decides that he's going to have to try something a little different. Three jets of light impact the ground and stone giants, each easily thirty feet tall a piece, grow out of the surface. A wave of the wand causes their arms to form into large metal spikes.

Harry wipes the sweat off his brow, as creating ninety feet of constructs isn't an easy thing to do, and has his golems attack the intruder. One of the golems jumps onto the dragons back and stabs it right in the neck, while the other two go for its slightly softer underbelly. Vaelastrasz roars in pain from the neck wound and attempts to shake the golem off; while that is going on Nefarian once again slams into his enemy

Harry twitches in slight annoyance as he notices one of his golems get crushed, but just directs his remaining two to fill Vaelastrasz with as many holes as they can.

"Even the mortal causes you pain," Nefarian laughs loudly with glee. "And you believed yourself capable of taking on MEEEE!" Nefarian begins beating Vaelastrasz across the head over and over until the dragon finally collapses to the ground. "Victory will always elude you, Vaelastrasz," he declares to the now unconscious Red dragon.

Harry calls off his last remaining construct, as another was smashed when Nefarian beat the hell out of Vaelastrasz's head, and looks up at the towering Black Wyrm. "I don't suppose you'd let me skin him would you," Harry asks as he nods his head at the Red dragon.

Nefarian laughs the kind of laugh you would expect a psychopath to have. "No, I have other plans for one of the Life-Bringer's favorite sons," he replies with a malice filled voice.

"Do you need my help with anything," Harry offers. "If not, I still have that meeting with the Thorium Brotherhood."

Nefarian snorts. "You may go meet with your Dwarves."

Harry nods, dispels his remaining construct, and apparates to his private storage room. He shrinks and pockets the chest in the middle of the room. He then picks up an empty scabbard from the corner of the room and attaches it to his waist.

"I will enjoy burning the flesh off your body," a trapped fire elemental says from across the room.

Last week Harry snuck into the Dwarf controlled portions of the mountain and raided one of their supply rooms. One his way out he came across this Elemental and noticed that it seemed to be receiving some kind of empowerment. So, he ambushed the elemental, captured it, and brought it back here where he has been studying it in an effort to find a way to separate it from the power boost it received.

A large grin forms on Harry's face as he turns to face the elemental, Pyroguard Emberseer. "When you say things like that, it warms my heart more than your flames ever could."

"All will fall to the eternal flame," the elemental simply states.

A twitch of Harry's fingers causes a long stick with a marshmallow on the end to appear. He pokes the stick through the cage bars and heats it with Emberseer's flames. The Pyroguard tries to grab the stick, but magical shackles around its wrist prevent it from doing do.

"Toasty," Harry says as he plops the burnt marshmallow into his mouth.

The fire elemental just glares back hatefully.

Harry apparates away and reappears two hundred miles north of the mountain, which is the limit on how far he can safely go in one jump. He had to hitch a ride from one of the dragons his first trip this far north, as he didn't know the area to be able to picture a point to apparate to.

He doesn't trust using a portkey either, as the excessive amount of magic flowing through Azeroth seems to be causing his portkeys to go way off course. His last attempt landed him in the middle of the sky over a hundred miles from his intended destination.

Another jump and Harry finds himself standing at the entrance to the Thorium Brotherhood's base of operations. The base is near the northern mountain range of Searing Gorge.

"You again, Wizard," a Dwarf, who has an extremely primitive version of a gun pointed at Harry's head, says.

"Hello there, Bargos," Harry greets as he gently nudges the barrel of the gun away from his head. "I'm here to see the Overseer."

Harry has had a few encounters with the Thorium Brotherhood, and Bargos is one of the few Dwarves of the Thorium Brotherhood that Harry can say he is actually friendly with.

"Of course you are," Bargos says. "I suggest you stay out of sight of the Alliance Flight Master stationed here though."

The Thorium Brotherhood has agreements with both the Alliance and the Horde that allows them to station a Flight Master at their camp. Both use Thorium Point as a staging area in Burning Steppes.

"What for, did I give him a funny look last time I was here or something," Harry asks as the Dwarf starts leading him to the Overseer.

"You've made quite the name for yourself among the Alliance races, especially the humans." Bargos pulls out a flask and takes a long swig. "Eight Alliance bases you've destroyed in the last two weeks isn't it? Your must be getting sloppy; almost all of those had a few survivors."

Harry gives a toothless smile. "If I didn't want to leave survivors, there wouldn't have been any survivors."

The Dwarf's bushy eyebrows rise in surprise. "You wanted them to know about you," he states.

"The last base I assaulted, some of the soldiers were so terrified of my reputation they actually turned tail and ran away," Harry tells him with a grin.

Bargos gives a hearty laugh. "Humans are cowards, the whole lot of them. A Dwarf would never run."

Harry doesn't bother mentioning he's made more than a few Dark-Iron Dwarves run away in fear as well. "Maybe," he says. "But it proves that fear is a very effective weapon."

Another chuckle escapes the Dwarf's lips. "I still think a warhammer to the chest is just as good."

Harry rubs his chin. "I won't disagree with you there," he says.

"I've been meanin to ask ye," Bargos starts. "What's that rune of your hand mean; I've never seen anything like it before."

Harry glances down at the symbol on the top of his right hand. The symbol is triangular with a circle and a line through the center. "It stands for the Deathly Hallows. When I became the first to ever possess three certain items of legend, this symbol appeared on my hand."

"Ay," Bargos says in interest. "What was the legend?"

Harry stops and has a seat on a turned over log before beginning the tale. "There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure.

And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.

So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned an Elder Wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother.

Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the Resurrection Stone would have the power to bring back the dead.

And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.

Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts. In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination.

The first brother traveled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible.

That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat.

And so Death took the first brother for his own.

Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him.

Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her.

And so Death took the second brother for his own.

But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."

"It was said that if any man managed to unite the three artifacts, then they would become the Master of Death."

The dwarf runs his hands through his beard when Harry finishes the tale. "And these items, you possess them?"

"Yes, though I'm afraid that while they are powerful in their own right, I find their abilities much less aww inspiring than the legend has you believe," Harry says as the rune on his hand gently glows and he seems to pull the Elder Wand out of thin air. "The wand for example, while it is one the most powerful wands I've ever encountered, I've seen at least a dozen magical staffs and other magical conduits with more power just lying around in the treasure room of Blackrock Spire." The rune flashes again and the wand disappears and a beautiful silvery cloak appears. "The cloak does offer complete invisibility, but it does nothing to hide you from the other senses. I've also become skilled enough that I can use my own magic to hide myself from view just as well as this cloak can; now the cloak is just sentimental value to me." Once again the rune flashes and the Resurrection Stone takes the place of the cloak. "The stone is able to temporarily summon the spirits of those that have already moved on, but Shamans can talk to the dead in much more effective ways then this thing can."

"Still, many would find a use for those trinkets," Bargos tells Harry. "So what does being a Master of Death entail?"

"Absolutely nothing," Harry says with a shake of his head. "All I got was this fancy tattoo on my hand and the items bound themselves to my person, nothing else."

Bargos shrugs his shoulders and gives a chuckle. "Fancy title like Master of Death still has a nice ring to it though, don't ya think?"

Harry snorts. "Ya, I suppose it does."

They get up from their seats and Bargos leads Harry rest of the way through the camp, to the large tent in the center of the Brotherhood's base. Bargos leaves him there and Harry enters the tent.

"Har'ri," A middle aged Dwarf sitting behind a rickety desk greets Harry. "Did you acquire our payment?"

"Overseer," Harry greets. "Did you finish my sword," he asks in return.

The Overseer grunts and pulls a long metal case from behind his chair and flops it down onto the desk. He then opens the lid to reveal a bastard sword with a Black Dragon body for the hilt with the dragon's wings acting as the hand guard. The blade is long, a silverish color, and made of Elementium.

Elementium gives weapons made of it great magical and elemental absorption and channeling abilities. The metal is extremely rare, found only in some of the most remote regions of Azeroth. It is believed by archaeologists to have been formed during the prehistoric reign of the Old Gods, in places where there were high concentrations of elemental creatures. In fact, Elementium isn't native to Azeroth, and is originally from the Elemental Plane.

Harry picks up the blade and tests its balance and the feel of the blade. He then slides the sword in the plain black scabbard he brought along with him and pulls the shrunken truck from his pocket, which he places on the ground and returns to its normal size. "This should be plenty of payment," Harry says as he opens the trunk and reveals two dozen bars of Thorium metal.

The Dwarf greedily takes in the rare and expensive material, a material that his brotherhood is even named after. "I do believe it is," the Overseer says.

Harry suddenly jerks his head in the direction that Blackrock Mountain sits. He felt a slight pull on his connection to Nefarian, and it is very rare that the Black Wyrm bothers to summon him that way. Without bothering to so much as say goodbye to the Dwarf, Harry apparates two times until he is standing inside the throne room of the Blackrock Spire. Nefarian is towering above two cowering Orcs with an annoyed look on his face.

"Har'ri, I have need of your abilities," Nefarian says while still scowling down at the terrified Orcs.

"What happened," Harry questions curiously.

Nefarian's scowl grows larger. "Rend Blackhand was assassinated."

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><p><strong>Authors note: So, if I hypothetically wanted a name for a new dragon flight that includes dragons from all the different flights, does anyone have any suggestions on a name? Oh, and like always reviews are very very welcomed.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but some of the idea for this story, and not much of that. The image cover was taken from google images; if anyone knows who made it please let me know.**

**Thanks to everyone who gave input last chapter. I've been considering two different directions I would like to see this story go, and I'm pretty positive I've finally decided on one. Oh, and the story title is going to remain as On Blackened Wings.  
><strong>

**If anyone is curious, I would put Harry's power at a little bit less than Kael'thas Sunstrider. But that is just for now, he will continue to grow stronger.**

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><p>Harry's eyebrows rise in surprise at Nefarian's words. "How?"<p>

Blackhand, the leader of the Dark Horde, was one of the better protected people in the Spire.

Nefarian glances over toward the corner of the room, where what appears to be a human man is chained to the floor. Harry is easily able to sense that this man is in fact Vaelastrasz; Harry assumes that Nefarian has somehow managed to restrain the Red Dragon's powers.

"The Life Bringer's son smuggled a Horde team in when he breached our defenses," Nefarian tells Harry.

Harry frowns in thought. "I would have never guessed that, considering the 'could be better' relations the Reds have with the Orcs."

Nefarian remains scowling. "With Blackhand's death, some of the creatures he led have decided to revolt," he says with a sneer. "While the forces in the Upper Spire have stayed true to us, the Lower Spire has not; I want you to show them the repercussions of turning traitor."

That news doesn't really surprise Harry. While Rend Blackhand was a fool who considered his worth much higher than it actually was, he did have a particular talent for keeping the rest of the Dark Horde in line.

"You want me to kill everything in the Lower Spire," Harry questions warily. There are over twenty-five thousand Orcs, Trolls, Ogres, and more living in that section of the mountain. While Harry is confident in his own abilities, he knows he has no chance in hell of taking out that many fighters.

Nefarian snorts. "Nothing quite so drastic, I want you to pop around, like you enjoy doing so much, and take care of the leaders of this revolt. Bring the heads of War Master Voone, Ghok Bashguud, and Highlord Omokk to General Drakkisath and the other traitors should fall in line."

Harry nods his head. "I'll get it done."

"See that you do," Nefarian says as he stalks out of the room. The two previously cowering Orcs trail after him.

"Why do you follow a creature so full of evil as the Son of Deathwing," the dragon in the corner asks after Nefarian leaves. "Why would you assist him in battle against one such as me?"

Harry turns toward Vaelastrasz, who is giving Harry a questioning look. "I don't have much of a choice; I originally intended to pretend to serve him until an opportunity to sneak away presented itself, but I was unpleasantly surprised when he demonstrated his trick of binding people's will to his." Harry gives a grimace. "As for assisting him in his fight against you, the nature of the bond demands that I serve him to the best of my ability. I can assure you that sitting around and watching the fight wouldn't have been the best of my ability."

Vaelastrasz develops a sympathetic expression on his face. "Then you are as much of a prisoner here as I am," he states.

Harry can't help but laugh. "No, unlike you, I'm not in chains." Harry gives a grin. "Honestly, what the bloody hell were you thinking that made attacking Nefarian in his own home seem like a good idea?"

The Red Dragon has a serious look on his face. "Nefarian and the Black Flight have plagued this world for long enough. It is time someone steps in to put a stop to their evil."

"And you thought that someone was you?" Harry gives the Red an amused look. "No offense mate, but look where that got you." Harry gestures around Nefarian's throne room. "Well, dragon, I must be off. You know how it is; I have monsters to slay and other heroic deeds to do." Harry gives the defeated dragon a soldier's salute and apparates away.

Harry reappears at the entrance to the Lower Spire, right next to the imposing form of General Drakkisath, the leader of Nefarian's armies. It wasn't difficult for Harry to hone in and apparate directly to Drakkisath, the towering Dragonspawn's power is so massive that even a blind man would see his presence.

Aside from Nefarian, there have been very few creatures that Harry has encountered that he doesn't believe himself capable of taking on. However, he is positive General Drakkisath could give him a run for his money.

"Har'ri," Drakkisath greets, over the clangs of battle happening just through an opening in the far wall. "Are you here to join the battle? It is always pleasing to see the creative ways you kill your enemies."

"Not as such, I'm afraid." Harry lets out a sigh. "I've been tasked with assassinating the instigators of this rebellion, revolution, or whatever you want to call it and to bring their heads to you."

The general almost smiles. "Then you shall partake in at least one true battle. Ghok Bashguud is leading an assault just ahead in an attempt to escape the Lower Spire."

Harry pops his knuckles and grins. "Then what am I doing standing out here," he says as he stalks across the room and through the opening in the wall.

Harry comes out inside a large cavern; dozens of Dragonspawn and Drakonids are standing guard at the opening. All across the expansive cavern there are over at least a hundred members of the Black Flight fighting back the waves of Orcs, Trolls, and Ogres.

Harry suddenly runs out into the hordes of fighters at a full sprint, enjoying the boost to his speed that his recently inscribed body runes grant him. He leaps up in the air, drawing his new sword as he does, and soars over a pair of Dragonspawn. He lands on the back of an exceptionally large Ogre and, before the beast even realizes what's happening, drives his sword through the Ogre's skull. The Ogre falls forward and hits the ground so hard the ground shakes.

"Not a bad way to test my new sword," Harry says to himself, as he jerks the weapon out of the Ogre's head and places the sword back in its scabbard. He just wishes he had time to add some of his own runes and enchantments to the sword, along with the basic enchants the Dwarves already put on it, before using it in battle.

"Seprensortia," Harry incants, as he notices a group of Orcs charging towards him.

A cobra shoots out of Harry's wand and onto the cold hard ground. An engorgement spell follows it and the snake grows to about thirty feet long.

"_Kill anything that is not Dragonkin_," Harry harshly commands in Parseltongue, which is something that remained behind even after Voldemort's end.

The now giant cobra doesn't hesitate to strike at the approaching Orcs. The snake's jaws clamp around the middle of one of them and the rest of the Orc's attention is quickly taken away from Harry and transferred to his conjured fighter.

Harry spots Ghok Bashguud standing on a hill on the other side of the cavern and he begins making his way in the Orc's direction. While doing so, he tosses Killing Curses into the mass of Dark Horde members in an effort to get a hit on any not paying attention.

An axe flies past Harry's head and sticks itself into the wall behind him. He turns to find a dark green Troll, with long white tusks, staring him down. Harry just raises an eyebrow at the brute and gives a twitch of his wand, which cause the axe behind him to zip out of the wall and to burrow into the Troll's chest.

Hardly giving the dying Troll a glance, Harry apparates the rest of the way over the cavern and a couple meters behind Ghok. The grey skinned Orc turns toward Harry, his bright red armor clinking as he does so, and gives a hate filled glare.

"If it isn't the Black's pet human," the Orc says with a sneer. "Come to die, have you?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Yes, I came all the way over here to confront you just so I can die."

Ghok slightly raises his large mace in preparation. "Your attempts at humor do nothing to hide your fear, human." Bashguud lets out a yell and charges Harry.

Harry sends three Bone Breaking Curses toward the angry Orc, but Bashguud smacks the spells out of the way with swings of his obviously heavily enchanted mace. Harry, not wanting to get mowed over by a stampeding Orc, apparates behind Ghok Bashguud and sends a Blasting Curse into Ghok's back. The spell slams into the Orc's armored back; the armor slightly glows on the impact of the curse and reduces the effectiveness of the magic so much that the metal is barely dented.

Harry scowls at the foolishly grinning Orc and launches a Cruico straight into Ghok's unprotected face. The beast lets out a scream of pain so loud that the rest of the fighting in the cavern stops as its participants seek out the source of the pained sound.

The rest of the beings in the cavern watch as Harry, with a satisfied smile on his face, ends the curse and draws his sword. He then swings it powerfully over his head and across Ghok Bashguud's neck, which slices the Orc's head clean off.

Harry grabs the head by its hair and lifts it up. "End this foolishness and live, or join your leaders in their fate," he says to the hall.

The Dark Horde members share hesitant looks before they, one-by-one, lay their weapons down.

Harry gives a satisfied smile before apparating back to General Drakkisath and tossing the Orc head near the Dragonspawn's feet.

Drakkisath doesn't even look at the body part. "We believe that War Master Voone and Highlord Omokk have set their base of operations in the Chamber of Battle. You shall find them both there," the Dragonspawn tells Harry.

Harry nods, casts an invisibility spell as well as silencing spell on himself, and pops to the Chamber of Battle. He appears in the corner of a stone and metal room, which is currently housing War Master Voone, Highlord Omokk, a beaten and bound Overlord Wyrmthalak, who is Drakkisath's second in command, and the dead body of Urok Doomhowl, who was, and obviously no longer is, the leader of the Dark Horde's Ogres.

Harry looks at the Ogre; Omokk used to be Doomhowl's second in command, but it appears the Ogre decided now was a good time to rise in the ranks. Harry then turns his attention to Voone, who, despite the size differences, is the real threat in the room. During the Second War, Voone led small strike teams on daring missions into the heart of high elven territory. The cunning troll later joined the Dark Horde as its chief strategist. Harry suspects Voone is the one truly behind this uprising.

Harry grins and casts a Whispering Charm, a spell him and Ron Weasley learned during their second year at Hogwarts so they could talk to another from across rooms, at Highlord Omokk.

"The Troll plans to kill you," Harry quietly says.

Highlord Omokk looks around in confusion, as the charm caused him to hear Harry's voice in his ear.

"He's just using you until he gets what he wants," Harry continues whispering. "War Master Voone cannot be trusted."

The Ogre keeps a confused look on his face, but now it is directed toward the Troll; Harry smiles to himself at the unimaginable stupidity of Ogres.

"Trolls have no honor," Harry says. "Master Voone will stab you in the back when you least expect it."

"What," Omokk says out loud, his voice filled with confusion.

War Master Voone glances up from a map of the Spire that he is studying. "What is it," the Troll sharply asks.

Harry continues to press on as the Highlord begins to clench his teeth. "You must strike now, attack him before he attacks you." Harry notices the Ogre tensing. "Attack, attack now, attack him before it's too late. Kill the Troll; kill him for honor, for your life, and you alone will lead the Dark Horde to victory." Harry smiles to himself. "Attack the traitor; attack!"

Highlord Omokk suddenly lets out a roar and slams his mace down toward War Master Voone, who nimbly leaps out of the way before he is crushed.

"What are you doing, you stupid beast," Voone asks, as he draws a matching pair of war axes.

"Me smash, you die," Omokk yells in response, as he charges back toward Voone.

The Troll snarls and stands his ground as the rampaging Ogre barrels down on him. Then, at the last second, Master Voone dives between the Highlord's feet, rolls to a stand, and slashes through the back of the Ogre's meaty legs.

Omokk grunts in pain as his legs collapse beneath him and he skids face first against the rocky ground. He attempts to raise his mace back up, but Voone slams his axe into the hand holding the weapon. Omokk lets out a wail of pain, drops the mace, and attempts to crawl away, as if he believes he will actually be able to escape the deadly Troll by pulling himself across the floor.

War Master Voone kicks the helmet off Omokk's head, grabs the Ogre by his hair, draws a long crooked dagger from his waist, and drives the blade deep through the Highlord's right eye. The troll twists the weapon, jerks it back out, and lets the Ogre's head fall.

Voone suddenly lets out a pain filled yell as a lion appears out of what seems to be thin air and clamps its massive jaws on the Troll's left arm. The War Master tries to stab at the lion with his dagger, but another of the felines jumps from the side of the room and attaches itself to his other arm. The lions grow even more aggressive and begin trying to literally pull the tortured Troll in half by his arms.

"Thanks for taking care of the Highlord for me," Harry cheerfully says as he finally drops the invisibility spell and walks into view. "Most people just aren't considerate like that these days." Harry stands above the Troll, who has fallen to his knees and is being held still by the lions firmly clamped upon his arms.

War Master Voone does nothing except glare as Harry un-sheaths his sword.

Harry then swings the weapon around and removes the Troll's head from his shoulders. He then banishes his conjured lions, releases Overlord Wyrmthalak from his bonds, and proceeds to decapitate the corpse of Highlord Omokk. That done, he re-sheaths his sword, grabs hold of bodiless heads, and apparates back to General Drakkisath.

"Har'ri, you have brought the heads of the betrayers." Drakkisath, who is holding a spear with Ghok Bashguud's head on the end, turns to face Harry. "Master Nefarian will be pleased."

Harry just rolls his eyes and drops the heads on the ground.

* * *

><p>Two months after Blackhand's assassination, Harry finds himself standing in the corner of the Chromatic Flight's rookery with his arms crossed as Sinestra, formerly known as Sintharia, inspects the Chromatic whelps and eggs.<p>

Sinestra was the prime consort of Deathwing after his corruption, as she was the only one of Deathwing's mates who managed to survive the process. She is also the mother of Nefarian as well as Onyxia. She isn't nearly as powerful as her two strongest children, but she is still a force to be reckoned with.

"They are an unacceptable color," Sinestra, in a female Blood Elven form, says as she glares at the violet skinned whelps.

Harry frowns at her. "They may not be the most vicious of colors, but that doesn't change that they are of the Black Dragon Flight."

Sinestra gives Harry a sharp look. "They are servants, not members, of the Black Flight." She looks back at the little dragons. "My son said they were not yet capable of breeding."

Harry picks up one of the whelps. "Unfortunately no, since they contain attributes of all five Dragon Flights, their bodies are too unstable to naturally reproduce." Harry scratches the whelp behind its ear, to the dragon's obvious enjoyment. "It is a problem we hope to fix in the future."

Sinestra just sneers, as she is far from satisfied with the Chromatic dragons.

"So why exactly am I here," Harry asks the closest thing the Black Flight has ever had to a queen. "Nefarian said you had need of me, and I'm assuming it's for something more than being your tour guide around the mountain."

"It is not a slave's place to question their masters," Sinestra cruelly responds.

"Does that mean you do or don't want my help?" Harry gives her a deadpan stare.

She glares back at him. "Come with me." She suddenly turns and walks out of the rookery.

Harry sighs but follows after her anyways.

"My son tells me that you are a powerful mage," Sinestra says as they walk through the corridors of Blackrock Spire.

"I wouldn't consider myself a pushover," Harry replies as he walks next to Sinestra; he refuses to walk behind her.

"For your sake, you best not be," she says. "You will accompany me on an assault against the Blue Dragons. They believe they have discovered the location of a thought lost artifact within the mountains of Deadwind Pass. We shall recover it first."

"And what is this item we seek?" Harry gives her a sideways glance.

Sinestra smiles in glee. "It is an artifact created by the Blue Dragon Balacgos over ten thousand years ago. The cube was cable of absorbing and storing a great amount of magic. However, Balacgos was careless and was killed in his experiments with the cube. This in turn caused Malygos to give the cube, given the name of Balacgos's Bane, to Deathwing, still Neltharion at the time, for safekeeping. Neltharion hid it away deep in the earth, where it has remained forgotten and undiscovered, until now."

The pair exits the Spire onto one of the many large balconies jutting out from the mountain. Sinestra transforms into her dragon form, which is a large wyrm dragon of a purplish hue. There are many scars and burn marks along her body, most which were received by mating with Deathwing.

"Get on, mage," Sinestra tells Harry.

Harry grimaces and climbs onto the wyrm's back. Once he is settled, Sinestra leaps off the mountain side and falls toward the ground. Within the last few moments before impact with the surface, Sinestra opens her wings, pulls up, and launches back through the sky.

Harry doesn't bother trying to fight off the smile on his face; if there is one thing that Harry loves, it is flying.

Now on their way toward Deadwind Pass, Harry attempts to get comfortable on Sinestra's back. He knows that even on a powerful wyrm, it will take some time before they make it to their destination.

Harry watches the scenery as they fly. This is the first time he has gone farther south than the Burning Steppes, and he enjoys getting to see something more than just rock, lava, and the barren wasteland that he has grown accustomed to. It really makes him appreciate all the nature that he and Sinestra fly over.

It is over fifteen hours after they leave Blackrock Mountain that Sinestra is waking Harry, who decided to sleep halfway through the trip.

"Are we there," Harry asks as he stretches the kinks that formed in his body from sleeping on a flying dragon.

"We are still an hour from our destination," Sinestra replies.

Harry suddenly feels a jolt of magic pulse across his skin. "Did you feel that," he asks the dragon under him.

"It is why I woke you," she says. "I do not know what that magic is, but we are going to discover the cause of it."

Harry frowns as he looks down on the bleak and jagged landscape which is Deadwind Pass. He can tell that whatever is causing the pulses of magic is dangerous and very, very, dark.

Sinestra suddenly nose dives down toward one of the mountains and lands upon one of the ridges. Harry then slides off her side and she transforms back into her Blood Elf form.

"Whatever it is, it is just past the cliff," Harry states what they both already know, as they approach the edge of the mountain.

Once at the edge, they both look down into the valley below. It is there that they spot at least a dozen mages in purple robes stand around a large pile of what appears to be dragon bones. The bones are large and blackened; by the size of them Harry believes that the skeleton once belonged to a fully grown wyrm.

"Those mages are wearing robes of the Kirin Tor. Any guesses at what Dalaran could possible want with a long dead dragon," Harry asks the Black next to him.

Harry assumes that these mages are part of the Violet Eye, a sect of the Kirin Tor dedicated to keeping the powers that call Karazhan home contained. Karazhan is only a little ways south of their current position.

"A few," she admits. "I believe those bones belong to the Blue Wyrm Arcanagos, who it is said was slain by Medivh. I participated in battle against the Blue many times in the past."

Medivh was the last owner of Karazhan and is the man who opened the Dark Portal and allowed the Orcs to invade Azeroth during the First War.

Whatever the Dalaran mages are doing seems to be working, as a dark light begins to glow around the dragon's remains. The bones start to assemble themselves into their proper places and the skeleton is pulled into the air by powerful magic. Suddenly a fiery light appears inside the skeleton's rib cage, its eyes begin to glow with an angry orange shine, and the now reanimated wyrm looks to the skies and lets out a terrifying roar.

Harry looks at the form of the dragon questioningly. "Why was it animated as a magma wyrm then? I was under the impression that a reanimated Blue Dragon is normally in the form of a frost wyrm."

Magma wyrms, with their blackened bones and angry orange core, are what reanimated Black Dragons are called in the rare cases that a dragon skeleton is brought into undeath. Reanimated Blue Dragons normally take the form of frost wyrms, which are colored with white bones and a blue core.

"I am positive that this magma wyrm is Arcanagos," Sinestra says to herself just as much as to Harry. "It is possible that whatever Medivh used to kill Arcanagos was so powerful that it altered his very essence."

"I do believe he is angry about being resurrected," Harry says.

A large purple dome has appeared around the reanimated dragon, but the black boned wyrm doesn't seem to be very happy about it. It starts to slam its body into the shield and, when that doesn't seem to be having much effect, it spews out a black flame against the magical barrier.

"Sinestra," Harry slowly says as he looks at the monstrous form below him. "You said you've fought this dragon before right? You were more powerful than it weren't you?"

"I was always the stronger of the two of us," Sinestra replies as if she is offended by the mere thought of a Blue Dragon being more powerful. "Slightly," she then adds.

The magma wyrm lets out a snarl of anger and again crashes into the shield, but this time the magic wall shatters on impact, to the purple garbed mages despair. The mages desperately try to get the dragon under control, but their magic doesn't seem to be having very much effect. Arcanagos roars and blasts fire out of his gaping maw, which turns half the mages into ash. The rest of the mages, seeing their comrades burnt to a crisp, begin teleporting away, most likely back to Dalaran.

The magma wyrm looks upwardand roars in victory.

"Is it just me, or is that thing looking right at us," Harry questions several moments later.

He is right, as the undead is staring directly toward the spot where Harry and Sinestra stand.

The skeleton launches into the air and streaks toward them. Sinestra leaps off the cliff, transforming into her true form as she does so, and meets Arcanagos in midair. The two dragons clash and fall to the ground, their massive forms clawing and biting at the other as they go.

As the two titans battle it out, Harry holds his hands out in front of him and begins forming a ball of chaotic green and black magic. When Harry assisted Nefarian against Vaelastrasz two months ago, he saw how ineffective his magic was against the most powerful of dragons. It was because of this that he sought out magic that would give him an edge against the creatures. So he approached the warlock members of the Dark Horde and had them teach him, after a month of lessons on the basics of a warlock's abilities, one of their most powerful spells, the Chaos Bolt.

Harry carefully taps into the Twisting Nether, an infinite source of unchecked and easily corrupting magical power that is the primary source of a warlock's strength. The Chaos Bolt is formed between his palms and Harry flings it down at the skeletal being. The bolt smacks into Arcanagos and draws a pained snarl from the creature.

Arcanagos twists around and slams Sinestra into a mountain side. Then, while the Black Dragon is stunned, he jumps into the sky and soars toward Harry, who proceeds to shoot another Chaos Bolt into the undead wyrm's skull.

"Arcanagos," Harry yells out as the dragon hovers above him. "We have no quarrel with you."

The wyrm roars once more. "Arcanagos is long dead," the skeleton says angrily. "I exist as Nightwing now."

Harry scowls and summons forth Fiendfire, which takes the shape of a dragon equal in size to Arcanagos, or Nightwing, as he now seems to prefer. Nightwing attempts to charge the flame-made dragon, but he just passes through it and the fiend sends a fiery flame into the undead's back.

Nightwing then proceeds to fight fire with fire by blasting his flames into the blazing dragon. The black fire proceeds to overcome the fiend and Harry's summoned fire is extinguished with a wave of heat.

Sinestra rejoins the fight and barrels into Nightwing. Pushing the skeletal dragon back, she seems to be taking the upper hand, but Nightwing manages to sink his teeth into her neck. The magma wyrm twists Sinestra's body to the ground, keeping his jaws clamped on her throat and slowing draining the life from the Black Queen.

Harry, doing something that most would consider reckless, pushes his magic into his legs and leaps onto Nightwing's back. Then, while channeling the slight amount of necromantic magic he knows, Harry thrusts his hand down inside of the glowing orange light that sits inside the skeleton's chest.

Harry feels as his very essence connects with Nightwing's. The undead dragon is full of chaotic energies, and Harry, with a great deal of effort, meticulously grabs hold of the strands that make the reanimated dragon's very being and he painfully attaches those strands to his very own being.

Harry opens his eyes, which he didn't even realize he closed, to find himself standing atop Nightwing, who has let loose of Sinestra and is calmly standing obediently.

Harry hopes off Nightwing's back and lands next to the dying Black Dragon. He then places his wand against Sinestra's neck and mutters an advanced healing spell. The magic takes a lot more energy than Harry would normally require for a healing spell, but Harry has never had to heal a dragon before either.

The wounds on Sinestra's neck seal up and the Black slowly morphs back down into her Blood Elven form.

"You enslaved the undead," Sinestra says as she sits up and eyes Nightwing's imposing form. She then turns and looks at Harry with a small amount of shock, respect, and if Harry isn't wrong, fear. "I was unaware that you possessed abilities in necromancy."

"I have no natural talent in the craft," Harry admits as he pats the leg of his newest pet. "But I've picked up a few things over the years."

Harry just hopes he doesn't need to do something of this sort again. Keeping Nightwing controlled is already pushing his miniscule necromantic powers to their limit. He knows that he won't be able to enslave anymore undead while he is keeping the skeletal dragon bound.

"Now," Harry says as he looks at Sinestra. "Don't we still have that cube of yours to find?"

Sinestra grimaces and nods her head.

Harry smiles down at her.

Nightwing roars into the sky.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: There's chapter three. Like always reviews are welcome and appreciated.<strong>


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